


Raging Storm, Weathered Together

by Zeiskyte



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Crimson Flower, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:54:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28316328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeiskyte/pseuds/Zeiskyte
Summary: The Lone Moon: the end of the year and winter; time to reflect on partings and acquaintances. Felix and Annette, brought together by the Adrestian flag, mourn their fathers together.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Kudos: 14





	Raging Storm, Weathered Together

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a Christmas present for my best friend. (Sorry this is so late lol.) Big thanks to [Capra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cunning_capra) for beta-reading this!!

Even hours later, Felix could still feel the burn of his father's magic against his skin. Felix was quick, fast on his feet and even quicker with his blade, but the light magic of Aura still grazed him before he struck the finishing blow. Belying the storm of emotions growing in his chest, he had glared at his father's corpse, pleas for the boar's victory dying on his bloodied lips.

He swung his sword at the tree in front of him with a grunt, narrowing his eyes at the splitting bark. While he had never been to this particular forest on the outskirts of Arianrhod, Faerghusian land was still Faerghusian land. It may have been early in the month of the Lone Moon (and the Leicester lands they had recently traversed certainly showed that the sun _could_ melt the snow), but the icy finish on every blade of grass reminded Felix that he had just killed his father on the soil of his own motherland.

Distantly, Felix wondered if his corpse would be buried under the snow, had he stayed loyal to Faerghus. Would he have fought alongside his father and ended up six feet under and revered as a true knight, fighting against the evil dictator Edelgard? Perhaps Sylvain and Ingrid would have stood at his side at the last frontier to defend their homeland. The boar, in his savageness, might have thanked them through his delirious growls for revenge.

Rodrigue and Ingrid were dead; Sylvain and the boar would be soon, the further they advanced towards Fhirdiad. Felix had abandoned his homeland over five years ago, and there was certainly no returning to the Fraldarius house after what he had done. Even if his reason for fighting under the Adrestian flag was his personal vendetta against the boar, his sword was being put to use. Where his weapon was pointed was meaningless; as long as he was striking and drawing blood, what did it matter? The thrill of battle and knocking down the nation that had oppressed him for his entire life was enough for a payment.

He cut another slice into the tree, splinters of wood falling to the icy forest floor. For a fleeting moment, Felix could see the Professor falling in the same way, never to be seen again until she reappeared like a phoenix at the ruins of Garreg Mach Monastery. He remembered the distinct feeling of his heart dropping into his stomach in the same way it had upon Glenn’s death. He hacked and slashed at the tree before digging his sword into it, banishing the thought.

“Felix?”

In a flash, he retrieved his weapon and prepared to strike, turning on his heel with every intention to pounce forward and-

“Annette?” he asked shakily once his adrenaline died down, grip loosening on the hilt of his sword. He relaxed his shoulders and lowered his blade, taking a quick breath to calm his racing heart and steady his voice. “It’s late. What are you doing out here?”

“Well, um,” Annette bounced on her heels, sounding uncertain. Despite five years passing since their academy days, he could still see her rocking back and forth in the same way as she did back in the library while deciding what book she would reach for (and inevitably ask him for help because she was too short). “You weren’t in your tent and I was… worried! I was _worried_ , Felix!”

“Why?” he asked simply as he sheathed his sword, his expression more confused than wary.

Annette took a few steps closer, her appearance becoming clearer in the dim light of the setting sun. Her auburn hair was down and messier than usual; she seemed more unkempt and frazzled, and the worried crease of her forehead amplified her concern. Despite her approaching him, she still seemed tentative in what she came here for.

“Annette,” he began again, lowering his eyebrows, “why did you come looking for me?”

“You… you _killed_ your dad today,” she said in a huff, as if that answered his question. “Nobody has seen you since the battle and… and…”

“My old man had it coming,” he growled, brooking no argument. Clenching his gloved hands into fists, he glared at his boots to avoid meeting Annette’s eyes. “If he seriously expected me to serve the boar and die alongside him, I have no remorse for a man like that.”

Silence filled the space between them, and Felix wondered if Annette would leave him alone after his admission. Patricide was one of the worst sins to commit, but he certainly had no regrets when it came to killing his father. Annette was by no means innocent, considering she fought under the Adrestian flag and aided in taking down Faerghus’ troops, but she must have realized what kind of person he was for slaying his own father. Her feelings for her own father were messy and conflicting between obligated love, abandonment, yearning, and hatred, but at least she hadn’t murdered him in the name of Adrestia.

“I don’t blame you,” Annette said suddenly, her voice a guiding hand that pulled him from the quiet that had settled over them. “It still must be hard, though.”

A frown tugged at his lips and he refused to comment further. It was easy to admonish his father and proclaim that his death was Felix’s duty. Truthfully, it was more complicated than that and Felix despised the storm growing in his chest. Rodrigue had been his father - even if Felix had hated that fact since the Fraldarius family lost a son, a brother, and a ~~true~~ knight.

“Can I sing for you?” Annette asked, apropos of nothing. When Felix’s head whipped up in surprise, she flustered immediately, her face heating up a bright red. “I-I know you said you liked hearing my dumb songs, so I thought that maybe…”

“The library song, then,” he interrupted, hardened features softening at the suggestion. Despite the chill of the Lone Moon winter, his face felt unbearably warm. “Please?”

Annette smiled at that, took a breath, and began. Once again, he was her willing captive.

* * *

It was after killing His Majesty and the other Blue Lions, claiming Fhirdiad, ending Lady Rhea’s dream, and striking down Gustave that the weight of Annette’s actions sank in. Faerghusian blood on her hands was hardly a new experience, yet it still felt _wrong_. She had fought for what she believed in and aided Emperor Edelgard in paving the way towards a new Fódlan.

So why did she feel more uncertain than she had before? Her hands shook just _thinking_ about her father, his bloodied face and how his armor crumpled like parchment under the power of her magic. Maybe if he hadn’t been on the receiving end, he would have praised her for her technique and admitted to his regret about running away from her and her mother. Now that he lay amongst the countless other dead bodies left to rot within Fhirdiad’s walls, would she ever know how he felt in his final moments on earth?

She sank further into her bedroll and stared at the low-hanging roof of her tent. In moments like these, she longed for her bed at the Officer’s Academy during those peaceful school days before war had broken out and the world turned on its head. Back then, it was easy to push aside her worries of conflict and the state of Faerghus when all she had to worry about was a difficult exam or the intricacies of a new spell.

Tugging the wool of her blanket further over her, she wondered if she had any of her father’s wooden dolls buried in her belongings. While she would never see him in the flesh ever again, she could at least hold something he had crafted with his own two hands and press it to her bosom. It was the closest thing she could get to a hug, now that her father had left this earth.

Annette choked a sob and pulled her knees to her chest, ducking her head into the crook of her elbow. Was this how Felix had felt after he had slaughtered his father, left to traverse the world as a fatherless son and a siblingless brother? Her heart felt heavy and the depravity of her actions ripped and tore at her as she wallowed away in her own self-pity.

“Dad…!” she cried, sobs wracking her body uncontrollably. His death at her hands was an awful burden and, while she had done it for the future of Fódlan, he was her _father_. The war was over and the bloodshed was done - but her father was dead and she hadn’t even gotten an apology from him after his years of absence in her life. “ _Dad_ …!”

There was the quiet sound of the fabric of her tent moving and then - Felix stepped inside, his boots light against the flooring.

“Hey,” he began softly, the usual edges of his voice absent and replaced with light surprise. “You’re crying.”

Annette hid her face further into the crook of her elbow and floundered for air in an attempt to regulate her breathing. “D-don’t… don’t look at - at me,” she gasped out. She was certainly shaking like a leaf with how bad her tremors were.

Felix moved closer to her and took a knee, obviously out of his comfort zone if his jerky, awkward movements meant anything. “You’re okay,” he said matter-of-factly, perhaps to calm her down. “We killed Rhea. Fhirdiad is ours. We’re alive.”

“B-but… my - my _dad_ ,” she gasped. “I - I killed… I _killed_ _him_ , F-Felix…!”

“He stood against you,” Felix said harshly, “and we were stronger.”

Annette lifted her chin so that she could see the man knelt beside her. Even with only a dying candle illuminating their figures, she could parse Felix’s look of determination, eyebrows sloped downwards and a signature frown tugging at his lips. Belying the narrowed eyes and frown, his features seemed to soften around her.

The situation she was in hit her in an instant: Felix was worried for her, and he had seeked her out to check in on her - just like she had after he had killed Rodrigue back in Arianrhod. Warmth climbed up her neck, to her ears, and settled in her face. She felt like a fussing child, embarrassment swallowing her whole under Felix’s concerned amber gaze. She ducked her head again, hiding behind her arm.

“Annette?” Felix asked cautiously, surprised by her sudden retreat. He seemed tentative, the pitch of his voice wavering in his uncertainness. “I - um. I can leave. If you want to be alone, that is.”

“N-no!” she cried immediately, forgetting herself. While she hated the idea of Felix (or _anyone_ , for that matter) seeing her so vulnerable, something in her wanted him to stay until the worst of the storm in her heart was over. Maybe it would never end - and maybe he would leave before the winds and the rain and the lightning came tumbling in. It would be selfish of her to ask for his company, especially with the storm waiting to swallow her whole.

Despite that, she gathered herself, took a deep breath, and murmured, “Can you stay?”

“... If that’s what you want,” Felix said after a moment and lowered his head, face burning a bright red in the faint lighting of her tent. “I can stay.”

Annette sniffled and managed a smile. Sitting up slightly and stretching out her legs under her wool blanket, she quietly said, “Thank you, Felix."

He ducked his head again, somehow more flustered than his usual levels of embarrassment. “Um,” he began, voice uncertain, “can I - would you mind if I… sing for _you_ , this time?”

She blinked at him in her stupor, stunned and at a loss for words. When she failed to speak up against his suggestion, he continued hastily, “F-forget it. Forget I said anything.”

“... Would you?” Annette asked, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. Her heart still felt impossibly heavy and it seemed the weight of the world continued to press against her shoulders. “S-sing for me, I mean.”

“I’m not as good as you,” he said dismissively with a shake of his head.

“Pretty please?” She blinked pleadingly at him, eyes still glossy with drying tears. She sniffled again with a small pout. “You’ve had to listen to all of _my_ dumb songs.”

After a lengthy moment, Felix huffed a heavy sigh. “Don’t make fun of me, alright? Singing is _much_ different than mastering sword techniques.”

Annette’s smile grew and she began to wipe away her tears, mirth renewed after so many long years of sadness and pain. “I won’t,” she vowed, “I promise.”

“Well,” Felix said, clearing his throat, “here goes.”

While his voice was quiet and shaky, Annette enjoyed every moment of it. Tucked away in her tent with only her dying candle and Felix’s singing to keep her company, the war and the corpses lying at her doorstep seemed to vanish into dust. The harsh winds, the endless rain, the rumbling of thunder, and the cracks of lightning seemed to wait outside, allowing them a moment of rest to enjoy one another’s company.

And perhaps... she and Felix could weather the storm together in the many years to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/Zeiskyte)


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